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|| ?|)t 9Mmjc&0t?? DEVOTED TO LITERARY, COMMERCIAL, AGRICULTURAL, GENERAL AND LOCAL INTELLIGENCE, VOLUME I. LANCASTER, C. H, SOUTH CAROLINA, THURSDAY MORNING, MARCH 25, 1852. NUMBER 7. (THE LANCASTER LEDGER) IS PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY MORNING. II. S. RAILEV, EDITOR AMIJMtOl'RIKTOR. Two iVllars per year, if paid in ad-wanee; Two Dollars and Fifty Cents, if paid in six months; or Three Dollars, if ' payment is delayed until the end of the. J ear. These terms will Ihj rigidly adered to. Advertisements will l>e conspicuously , inserted at seventy-five cents per square of fourteen lines, for the first insertion, and thirty-seven ami a half cents for each subsequent insertion. A single insertion One Dollar. Nothing will be counted less than a square. Advertisers are requested to state, in writing on their advertisements, the number of times they wish them insert"*!; or they will be continued in the paper until ordered out, and charged accordingly. SELECTED T AL ES. ANGEL CARRY, OH TIIB FATE OF A DRUNKARDS CHILD. "My Carry lias blue eyes anil cherry lips, and pretty curling hair as any little girl in the land, I know ; murmured a fond mother, as she suspended her sewing and sat gazing at a lovely creature full of wild gamUds, now dancing around the humble room after the golden sunshine, now pouring from nature's own rich lute, soft strains of music; and a smile which made that poor woman's holy face played around her own beautiful mouth. Another moment and Carry's bright eyes ami winsome face peeped in at the window, through the clfmbing rose bush ; and the fresh crimson flowers laid on her sunny locks, and kissed her cheeks ami flushed her white forehead with a pale rose red, ami clung to her little shoulders ; and again the mother as she lifted her now shadowed brow whispered with a fresh Iove-l>ouud at her heart?" Cod bless her." Then the tiny thing ran and laid down upon the bank, and the slender wands of grass, among which sparkled here and there bright yellow buttercups broidcrcd her simple lihen frock, and cradled her as loviugly, almost, as the arms of her motl ' , sr. Sometimes the wild l>eo? on ;hc wing came close down, so close that for the I warm, fragrant breath of Um swoet infant 1 . weywoukl havo kitted her little roey lipe for no doubt ihcy took them at first tor new ripe hloasonw, full of honey, and so they were?bet not for the bees. Abovo ) the bnl?e a linden tree throw its graceful foliage, and hctweeu the delicate leaves, the blue shining heavens looked down but never on a lovelier sight. One branch as delicate almost as a gossamer spray, swung dreamily back and forth, r'M-Kod by the weight of a yellow bird, that pouring its ringing tones ujm*n the still air, sang the child to sleep. Wondering at last why the laugh of her little one was hushed, the young mother folded by her work, and hastened to the garden ; and although no painter's eye Was hers, yet as her vision wandered far away towards the hills, and gathered in the broad, intervening fields, with their jwrpentinoswaths of uew mown grass, and ; the orchard-trees, right and left licnding under their precious burdens, and the woe glinting stream, she felt all the emotions, that ? n v?v?v<J ?/ui III WIIUIVV W.l|tl>, M.IIIip tllC l*>Ot. The hedge of sweet briars surrounding her humble liotne, was spangled witli cluster* of dried row-lorries, the spreading grape vine and l?eds of sweet thyme, marigolds, mignionctte and hearts' ease were glowing under the warm, mellow ray* of the high sun ; hut precious above all tlieae, was the sight <4 her dear Title daughter, lumbering under the linden tree. She gazed upon it, strangely enough, with tears; her soul expanded with the multipJuv of her emotious ; she bent reverently down passed her loving arms under\jneath the babe. and again murmuring -"Clod blesa her," l?ore her within the lowly cottage and laid her in her little cradle. Just then a wild burst of merriment broke the drowsy silence; a coarse, gutferal sound of men's harsh voices?in mirth unnatural and strained; the mother lifted her eye* from the sleeping cherub, uwd looking heavenward tho murmured as she cUsjmvI her hands till f .they grew rigid "oh! how small a sao would thi? life be could it but restore him to virtue; will nothing bring him . iNMttc-to my love again t Must I behold him come home day after day, with the maniac'* wild eye ami tin- drunkard'*curse! And shall iny child be branded with his disgrace t my winning, beautiful, delicate girl, almost too gentle and good foi earth, as she is, must she be cailei) a drunkard's daughter ! God forbid !" she continued while sob after sob shook her whole frame, u rather take her to Thee, Father, il this Must be, and I will strive to smile over ^ her little body, all cold and shrouded for \ * the grave, and thank Thco that it is no ' worse." 'y Ami Emily Alden rose from the side of her babe, and suppressing the violence of \taer emottous, resumed her sewing. -L The cottage room was very neat; rone vines crept over the window, and a few tftnidbodn ventured through, and hung on tit* wooden nHU. Ute floor wan Banded, the pine duun atnod evenly against the white-washed wall, a rottrtd taMe shone I In the corner, and over it hung the portrait Of a venerable old man, the lather of Eraif %, odes the minister of the parish, whoae ma*ire brow and deep set blacfc eyes, In I dicated power that would have made him a giant among statesman?that made him a father, a guide, and a counsellor to his people. Near that was vnother; the proud, bright face of a young man, with a thouhtful, student-like expression; the older image of the sleeping babe?the husband, and the father. These two pictures, as the little one called them, were all of ornament the cottage could l>oast; but there needed little of that within, for nature had liberally bestowed her choicest treasures all around this beautiful spot, and the valley m which stood the lowly dwelling was almost a paradise. i!... l....... i.? -i?i. o_ 1MU II* I* , iU* III II*.*?%%**II UIHI*, MVtfll Oil* tan ; the mi house t?> the right, with its swinging sign, and 44 entertainment for man and boast," was a tavern.; n blot by the way side, and it seemed strange how innocent flowers could flourish within sight and smell of the loathsome poison, that was bringing utter ruin upon so tnanv devoted hearts. Here was the place where young Aldcn had learned to be a drunk ard; here he was leader of the revel chief in the baelinnal feast; his talents formed him for command, his passions made him a slave. I'is career had l>een rapidly downward, and a terrible fate seemed impending over him. The clock struck, four; Emma arose from her seat, lighted the few pine sticks that were carefully gathered underneath the kettle, and as the blaze leaped nieiril v upward, and the singing steam mingled with the white smoke wreaths, she drew out the table from the corner covered it with a neat cloth, and put on the few little supper things, ready for her husband when lie should return. Kneeling upon the hearth to arrange the meal cake, she felt a slight pull at her dress, and looking round, there stood little C'arry, with both chubby hands rubbing her blue eyes, and half laughing its she enjoyed her mother's surprise. .... ~?:u ? .1 ?? vyilM > ma |||> raili, in ii<?lll?aii iIM ?lll*T, lisped the sweet ereature.flinging her snowy arms around her mother's neck, and as Kinma pressed her closer and more closely to her 1m>soiii, she shuddered as she thought of her prayer; and a horror flashes! through her soul at the idea that death could chill the little heart beating so softly against her own ; and again she breathed yearningly, "not death, oh ! not death my Father." Released from her mother's embrace, the little thing went dancing around the table, watching delightedly with her hungry eyes, jjio preparations for tea. Pretty she went to the door and stood there gazing at some distant object The west wns directly opposite, and the setting sun, like a glol>e of fire, reddened all the clouds with an intense glory, so brilliant that the eye could not look thereon, hut its milder lustre softened by the atmosphere came glowing down, and clothed hill and valley with almost immortal beauty. And then it rested upon the young child's head till her golden locks shone, and she seemed to stand in a halo of white light, like an angel ready to wing her way to heaven. Suddenly rocking her little l?ody to and fro, and clapping her hands, she cried out " oh mama, I sec him ; papa is coming,and he sees me; come <piiek, come quick, 1 want to kiss you," she shouted, holding out her arms towards him. " Come darling father, 1 want to kiss you?why how funuv he walks," and she laughed merrily at what she thought his attempts to amuse her. " Here lie is at the gate?oh ! papa; T iv fi>.c i " ?i .i ??>? v - ....... ?... 1.1.-..-. y'u , iiuii me nruiiKuni item down a* sh?> attempted to spring into his bosom?a demon yell?a wil<], unearthly agonising slirifk, and tLen a stifled moan. Poor habe! the father she loved so well had fallen ii|Kin her tender l>ody, and there 1 she laid, crushed and disliguml. Oh ! the agony of the ixxtr mother, as she raised the mourning nabe to lier Isv soin, then with strained and tearless eyes fled from the cottage, nor stopped till she had gained the dwelling of a former 1 school-mate, whose husband was a physician. There they took the child from her I arms as she fell fainting to the floor, and | in her long trance she was spurt*! the misery of its shrieks, while the doctor set its fractured limits. She revived to learn that her child was injured lieyond hope of recovery. hut strange to say, it lived?though henceforth incurably deformed. \V eeks fled, days, months and years ; I 1 the village had merged into a town, the j ' town into a city ; and in one of that city'* stateliest Iminc*, a marriage was to l>e con- 1 automated. Kmilv Allien was the hride; a delicate thoughtful faced girl, with eye* of tender, spiritual beauty. Ami around her sUkkI her noble brother*, and sisters; but though they were all happy, even gav, I there wa* in eaeh young countenance, an ! undefinable expression of sadness that ' seemed strangely to contrast with the wedding scone. And soon they all moved toward* a couch a little aside from the centre of the apartment where a pale, shadowy figure reposed. The expression on her wan features was more than beautiful, it was saintly, heavenly*, tho glossy ripples of the same shiniiur hair, w ere laid back from 1 her white temple*, And thorn eye* of dark blue, had galpcd in depth and holine** what thoy larked in the quick brilliance of health?health,ala*! forever denied ker. The fiither who had been the came of b** Iffo-long suffering, *at by the head of her couth; a thin wasted, melancholy man with an eye thataaemod forever darting readonly about. The marks of age had eome suddenly upon him, ww at the < time when little Cany was stricken to the '' earth, for the next day his hair was white, J and tlie wrinkles gathered on his brow, and sorrow pressed her burden upon him, ? till his shoulders were bent with its weight. ' Never had he tasted of the cup since ) then ; and the mournful presence of his I injured child was a continued and awful " pledge of his reform. Nineteen years? it seems a dreary length of time?had c that j>oor girl laid apon a l>ed of pain ; for nearly a Quarter of a century her feet 1 had not touched the greensward, nor had she ever plucked the wild flowers she lo- f ve*l, from their native soil. From home 1 to home she had l<een carried, each more splendid than the last, and her mother, a 11 bliir'sB%' sorrowful creature, had hovered I ^ above almost day and night, devotinfr I her energies, her life, to this licr greatest. 11 treasure among many. f lint tin* soul grew on to perfection with- * in that deformed ho<ly ; the wise, the great and the good sought her darkened chain- ' her to gather fresh liojx* and strength tor 1 the life journey; to listen to the sparkling 1 thoughts that fell like pure gems from her ! pale lips; to wonder at the. patience that \ sat enthroned on her f ir brow, w hile, the 1 shadowy form of death moved never from 1 her side, or, as it were, tabernacled >ithin ' her very heart from hour to hour. The bride knelt down bv her sister at ; ' her re'piest, and happy as she was, tears I gathered in her eyes and fell upon her | costly bridal veil, as tbe emaciated band ' was slowly lifted, and placed on ber bead, j Tli lips moved, tbe large eyes were up- j fumed to heaven, and all present felt bow 1 8ae.*"d must lie the blessing so fervently , and sp.'pitnally invoked. Ami smVlenly a change came?a change 1 for which nope were prepared, notwith- 1 standing it bad l?acn looked for daily. A faint flush, and then a deathly pallor; a slight tremor around the beautiful mouth, a flash of triumph from the dying eyes.and with a smile of indcscri!?ahlc sweetness, ' the purified soul mounted with sister angels to heaven. Afn-r her burial the mother grew paler and sadder;'the father still plodded on, 1 amassing wealth, and liestowing tnucli up- on the poor and unfortunate; he naver for- . gave himself for clouding that young life, . never. I lt.1t tin4 memory of Caroline Allien is |' still I tlossed, still shrined within many lov- | ' incr hearts. I"|x>n her simple monument ' is inscriltcd the following: "Oru Caroline, , A meek sufferer, an angel on earth." ] Anil those who know the history of her ' life, weep as. they gaze upon it.? Olive ' SmtOK. : to : THE LITTLE BOUND BOY S DREAM. J i written for and dedicated to the f children, 1)y m. a. d. I A little fair-haireil child laid its pale t cheek ii{miii a pillow of straw. It had toiled up three pairs of narrow, r dark stairs, to gain its miserable garret, i r for it was a little "bound child," that had j I neither father nor mother ; so no soft lied j t awited its tired alimbs, but a miserable j c pallet with one thin coverlid. 1 1 It had neither lamp nor candle to lighten the room, if such it might l?e called; t still tnat was not so had, for the beautiful c round moon smiled in upon the poor lit- , v tie ladind Uty, and almost kissed his fore- n head, as his sa<- eyes closed dreamily. t Hut after a while, as he laid there, v what a wondrous change came over the ?| place. A great light shone down; the huge hlack rafters turned to solid gold, > jj and these seemed all studded over with li iny, precious, sparkling stones. The t broken floor, too, was all encrusted with u shining christals; and the child raised him- self upon his cIImiw and gazed with a half 1 s< fearing, half delighted look upon the glo- i d Hons sight. |o One spot on the wall seemed too bright j for his vision to endure; but presently, j f< as if emerging from it, came a soft, white p figure, that stood by the poor bound boy's bedside. s! The child shut his eyes; he was a lit- o tie, only a little frightened, ami his heart b beat quickly, but he found breath to mur- s< mur "tell me, who you are? n c "Look up, be not afraid said a sweet t< voice that souuded like the harps of heaven, "look up darling, I am your brother u Willy, sent down from the angels to speak , ci with you, and tell you to try and bear all j I your sorrow patiently, for you will soon ! it be with us." w " What, you my brother, Willy I oh ! w 110, no, that cannot be; my brother Willy y w as very pale,ami his clothes were patched pr sn?l torn ; and there was a hump on his V hack, and he used to go into the muddy tt itreets to pick up bits of wood or chips, but pour face is quite two handsome; and your ih dothea prettier than any I ever saw liefiire: ni iml tliere is no ugly hump on your tl ?ack?liesides, my brother Willy is dead, y, ong ago." (i "I am your brother Willy, your imTtortal brother; my body, with the ugly y< lump, is dead ami turned to ashes; but tl iusI as soon as that died, I went up to the ni rreat heaven, and saw sicbts that I <-nn. 1 -i lot toll you al>out now, they were no very, very lieauliful. But God, who in your m Father and tho holy nnmo of Eternity, ai ?ave me thcne bright garments that nev- fc, * Ret "oiled; and I wan no happy that I r< xpect my face wan changed very much, ni ind I grew tall ami straight; no no won- g< Icr you do not know me." ai And now the little bound child's tears ki H'gnn to fall?MohP he exclaimed earnest- ol y, "it I too could go to heaven !" hi "You can go;" replied the angel with a g imile ofineffaceable nwoctneaa. Myou hare earned how to read ; well, to-morrow get t our bible, and find very reverently?for I t is God's most holy book?these words s if the Lord Jesus:?"Hut I any unto you 1< ove your enemies, bless them that curse c ou, do good to them that hate you, and >rny for them which dcspitefully use you t md persecute you." e I>oall those, and you shall he the child * >f your Father which is above." t "Even if they beat me ?" murmured v he little bound l>oy with a quivering lip. 1 A flash of light passed over the angel's \ ace, as he replied, " the more you fortrive, s he nearer you will be to heaven." t In another moment tlie vision liad < ;one, lxit still the room was all blazing 1 with unearthly radiance. < As the little l>oy fell hack upon his pil- t ow, his wan face reflected the angel's 1 anile, and he thought, "I will forgive them i wen if they Wat me." Suddenly a more musical voice than * he former fell upon his ear. This time lie j was tn>t afraid, hut sitting upright on his j miserable couch he saw a figure that teemed to lift itself to the wall; a ray of | ntense brightness outlined all its form : its eyes Mazed, yet there was a mild beauty in them every timo he looked into his ' ?wn. "Little one, I am thy father;" said the form in melting accents. "I don't think you can l>e my father;" f whisjtered the boy timidly. "Mv father used to look very old indeed; and he got imrt and wore a crutch; there were wrinkh-s on his face and all over his forehead, i?nd his hair was short and white ; not long like yours. And my father used to | <toop over, and wear a little black apron, , und put patches on shoes in a little dark room." . " And what else ?" "He used to pray and sing very sweetly, but 1 never hear any praying and ( unging nbw," sobl>ed the child bursting into tears. "Don't cry, dear little l>oy, hnt listen to ne. I am your father, your immortal at her; that poor, lame laxly is aM gone llHV inttlltltMl wiftlm ~ C + \ _ . v . . nun UIC UUH HI I 11?; ffravcrard. As soon as the breath left that debrmcd body,I was with the shining angels losts snil hosts of them bore me up to Heaven; ami the king of that glorious [?laee clothe 1 me in these robes, white and ( stainless, gave me this tallbeautiful body, . ivhich shall never feel corruption. Ami . his was the reason, dear little orphan ; l?e ausc I loved Him and my chief delight vns in praying to llim,and talking al>out Him, and although 1 was very poor, 1 J jried to be honest, and many times went Hungry rather than do wrong. ( And you, if you will never forget to say , i*our little prayer thai I taught you, if you | will keep Hod's holy commandments, and t rust in him'alway*,shall you soon Ihj w ith ne in my sweet heavenly home." Once more the child was left alone, but 'till the rafters were golden, the walls nearly, the old floor studded with bril- ( iants, and the same soft mysterious light >ver all. j A strain of holy music fell upon his en aptured senses; it grew louder, and came learer and nearer to the head of his little >ed. And then a voice?oh! far sweeter ban either of the others, sang, " my { hild, my little earth-child, look upon me am thy mother." . In a moment, what emotions swelled he bosom of the I-'iiely boy. He thought ,r i.A. ..i....i .?i ? ? . Iiniinnn icuucriivss lO mm loner ears ago ; of her soft arms around his icek, her gentle lips pressing his forehead; | hen came up the cruelty of strangers, ( rlio, after she had heen put away in the leep ground, treated him with harshness. , He tune d towards her; oh ! what a ^ [lorious U'ing: her eyes were like stars; icr liair like the most precious gold ; hut here was that in her face that none other night so trucly know. He had doubted ?if the first-risen was his brother, if the j econtl was his father, hut not once did he ouht that this lieautiful heing was his w n dear mother. A little w hile lie kept down his strong cling, hut the thoughts of the past and resent overpowered him. o "O! mother, mother, mother," he cried, it tretching forth his little hands, "let me il r>me to you?let me come; there is no- fi ody in this world like you ; no one kis- tl me now, no one loves me, oh ! moth- tl r, mother, let me come ?and the hot a >ars rained down his cheeks. w "My orphan child," she said, in low cl >nes, that thrilled him to the heart, "you ?nnot come to me now, hut listen to me. am very often near you when you knownot. Every day I am by your side, ami (j hen von mmn In llii* fmn.lv ~ j? ?j """ ?? ir eep, niy wings encircle you. i Indmld n ou suffer, but I know that (?od will not p ive you more sorrow than you can boar. J Vhen you resist evil I whisper calm and ai uider thoughts into your soul; but when | r>u give way to anger, when you cher p h a spirit of revenge, you drive your a, lotherfrom you ; remember that, my lit- ;| c one, your sin drives your mother from p r?u, and displeases the great and holy a od. Be goo<l, U happy, even amidst all ai nur trials, and if it is a consolation, V now h lat thy immortal mother often com- ol nines with thy soul. And farther, thou ol lalt soon l>o with inc." "Ol mother, mother, mother." mnr. ?1 mre<l the l*>y, springing from hi* bed, k id striving to leap toward* her. The d< pen air chillutl him; he looked eagerly it >und?there wa? no light, a solemn still- ai ?s reigned, the radience, the rafters of p. aid, the silvery beams, the nmsie, the pi igels?all were gone. And then he p< new that he had been dreaming; but fe \ I what a dream ; how strengthening; si aw cheering ; never, never would he for- tc et it I The next morning when he went down i> liis scant breakfast, there was such a eautifnl serenity upon his face, such a weet gladness in his eyes, that all who ooked upon him, forbore to taunt or hide him. He told his dream and the hard hearts hat listened were softened; and the mother, who held her own babe, was sochoked kith her tears that she could not eat: and he father said inwardly thatheneeforth he could l?e kinder to the poor little bound ?ov, and so he was. The child found his vay into their affections, he was so meek, o prayerful, so good; and at the end of a welvemonth, when the angels did in very leed take him to heaven, the whole famiy wept?-ifi.mul the little coffin as he were >ne of their own. Hut tln-n they all felt bat he was in the bright heavens with lis brother, his father and his* dear angel mUlwr The CViuoib Man ani? tiik Poet.? flic subjoined amusing anecdote ofM' Donald Clarke, the mad poet, appeared i) the old New York Spectator in 1K27. A certain poet, who has written some of lebest st nzas, and some of the worst lines >f any American hard, and who, for some ^articular eccentricities, lias heen reputed nad, being sometime since at the Assembly Room, at the City Hotel, was interipted in his dreams of fiction, l<y a stranger, who thus accosted him. Is your name Clark, sir. Clark, is my name. I have c- me a great distance, sir, for the xpress purpose of seeing you. Indeed! And do you consider yourself imply remunerated for the fatigue of a ong journey, hy a view of my delectable jM-rson.' ^ es?you are a strange looking creature. Some people say you are mad; ind I have heard a number of ladies issert that if you paid proper attention to your dress you would he a very pretty man. A pretty man! Now, by Heaven, sir, I consider that one of the most rascally compliments they could have paid me. A pretty man, sir (like yourself, for instance) is, in my opinion, one of the most contemptible objects that ever ;amc from the manufactory of Heaven! Why so, sir ?' Ib-cause, sir, the epithet implies the absence of everything that is manlyThey mi dit as well apply the term to the Dcean in a storm, an eruption of Mount /Etna, or tin* falls of Niagara. Well you are really a strange fellow, ind in my opinion, a greater knave than fool. Do you think so sir? I really wish 1 iould reciprocate the compliment. Hut I certain that not a trait in yonrchaarcter wiil hear any comparison with yotir tidiness, which like Aaron's rod or Pharoah's lean kino, swallows up all the rest. You are severe. You sav that you h ive come a great listanee for the express purpose of seeing ne as you would go to see a Hear and Elephant ?r a Hotttentot Venus! Yes. Now, sir, comply with the terms, fifty senta a sight. Indeed! Well, there. lie gives him he money. Stay,sir, take hack twenty five cents; cliilIren half price!' Again! Why, you show no mercy to ?ne who is anxious to serve you. To serve me! Then unite your fortune vith mine. Every wild beast that is cxlihited in this city, is accompanied with a nonkey. The stranger finding the poet too much r?r him as the pugilist's say,and perc<1viug hat he was no more deficient in feelings han in wit and talents, begged his pardon or having so rudely intruded upon his iK^mnin'iiK, miu ?a? suhuil retiring, wiieu ho poet returned the money; hikI taking im by the hand, assured him, tliat as npudencc ami ignorance are always niter!, he eoiihl very safely parden his resumption. Gknkiial Hamilton.?A Reminiscence f (he fleeofution,?Wc fin<l the follow* ig extract of a letter from General Hamton, expressing his sentiments upon the ite of the unfortunate Major A mire, in le Washington Union. The editor says lat " he does not know that it has before ppeard in print." It is new to us, am] ell illustarates the refined and knightly harcater of Hamilton, Tap pan, Oct. 2, 1780. ) Headquarters of the Army, f Voor Andre sutlers to-day. Every ling that, is amiable in virtue, in fortitude, i delicate sentiment and accomplished lannen, pleads for iiim; but hard hearted obey calls for a sacrifice. He must die. send you my account of Arnold's affair; nd, to justify myself to youi sentiments, must inform you that 1 urged a com* liance with Andre's request to be shot; ud I do not think it would have had an I effect. Hut some people are only sensible ? motives of policy, and sometimes from narrow dipoaition, mistake it. When Andre's tales comes to be told, iid present resentment ? over,the refusing im the privilege of choosing the manner I his death will l>c branded with too much bstinacy. It was proposed to me to sugg?*st to him te idea of an exchange for Arnold; but I new I should have forfeited his esteem by aing it, aud therefore declined it. As a tan of honor, he could not but reject it; ad I would not (or the world have proneed to him a thing which must have laced me in the unainiablc light of sup using nun capable of meflnn?M or of not eling myftolf the impropriety of the menire. I confess to you I ha<i the weakneaa > value the esteem of a dying man,because reverenced his merit A. Hamilton. To Miss Schivlk*. # A Gentle Hint.?A middle aged farmer and his young wife were enjoying a winter evening cosily together when the conversation turned upon religious matters, as described by the Dible which the man had oj?en before him. t "Wife," said the farmer, "I have been 1 thinking what happy society Solomon , must have had in his day, with so uanv wives, A*e., as is here represented." "fndrrdJreplied the wife somewhat 1 miffed "you had better think of something ' else, then. A pretty Solomon you would ? make, truly; you can't take proper care , of one wife. What a figure you would I , cut, then, with a dozen wives, and all of 1 them as spunky as T am." The farmer took his hat and went to the stable to feed the cattle for the night. : "Daddy, I want to ask yon a question." "Well, my son." { "Why is neighbor Smith's liquor shop, j like a counterfeit dollar?*' "I can't tell, my son." "1 localise you can't pass it," said the l?oy. ' I I >id any l?ody ever hear the story of i j two bachelors, down in Tennessee, who ' had lived a sort of cat-and-dog sort of life, to their own and their neighborhood's dis- ' comfort, for a good many years, but who had been at a camp-meeting, wcie slightly 'convicted,' and both of them concluded to reform. "Brother Tom," saya one, when they had arrived at their home, "let us- sit down now, and I'll tell you what we'll do. You tell ine all my faults, and I'll tell you of yourn, and so we'll know how to go about mending of Yin." "(Jock] ?" says Brother Tom. "Well, you begin." "No, you begin, Brother Joe." "Well, in the first place, you know, | Brother Tom, you will lie." Crack! goes Brother Tom's'paw' between Brother Joe's 'blinkers,'and considerable of a 'scrimmage' ensues, until in the course of about ton minutes, neither arc able to ' conic up to time,' and the reformation is post(Kincd sink die. Argument.?Never waste arguments on people that don't know logic from logwood?which is the case with half the people w ho love disputation. The best reply to a stolid dogmatist is to say, ,'cer tamly?nodonbt of it?it's clear as mud." ! there's no "jx?ser" like u. springly acquiescence to your eternal wrangler. Let him j have his own way, and you confound hitn at once. Leave him to himself, and you make him so uncomfortable, that he will leave you?"a consummation devoutly to be wished." Conviction seldom comes of personal disputation, in which the battle is waged much oftener for victory than truth, except a conviction that the other party is very dull, or very dishonest. Hesides, few persons take their opinion thro' argument, in the first place, and Dean Swift said with the utmost truth, that "it is useless to attempt to reason a man out of a thing which he was never reasoned into." Cupid's bow, the Asiatics say, is strung with bees, which are apt to sting sometimes fatally, those who meddle with it. Vftt u ltn ?.:*L . - ....W ..1/MiVtll V WV-?k-|WlllUI> ? I line 1*1111 I pain, rather than know nothing of life's most exquisite pleasure ? ' A Greek maiden being asked what por- 1 tion she would bring to her husband re- ' plied, "I will bring him wh it gold cannot ( purchase, a heart unspotted, and virtue \ I without a stain,which is all that descended | to me from my parents." The family that never took a newspa- 1 per has moved to Illinois. The old gentle- 1 man, was surprised the other day to learn that gold was discovered in (,'alifor- 1 nia ; and the eldest daughter w as rejoiced 1 to learn from a neighbor, that Webster ' had Insen bung, as "she'd never again l>e ? troubled with them pesky sjH-llin' l>ooks!" Nf.ver Give A kick Fon A Hit.? 1 I learned a gooil lesson when I was a < little girl, Hays a lady. One frosty morning e I w as looking out of the window into my father's hnrn-yard,where stood many cows, . oxen and horses, waiting to drink. The 1 cattle all stood vcrv still and meek, ' till one of the cows, in attempting to * turn rouud, happened to hit her next neighbor, where upon the noighltor kicked and hit another. In five minutes the whole herd were kicking each other with f fury. Mv mother laughed and said, 'See what comes of kicking when you are hit.' Just so , I have seen one cross word aet a I whole family by the ears some frosty mor- t ning. Aflerwards,if my brother or myself j were a little irritable. Rho would snv "Take care, my children, remember how the fight in the tarn yard began. Never 1 return a kick for a hit, and you will nave yourself and others a great deal of trouble.* 1 From the Casfcef.' A Fidler Converted. We recollect a singular cireumstanco hat was related to us in Kentucky, by dr. 13 , who joined the chureh under >ur ministrations, when he was probably past fifty years of age. lie had been a man of the world, and given to dissipation and pleasure. He had a family of several daughters, that were grown. He was particularly fond of dancing parties, which he had frequently at his own house. He would play the violin, while tho Young folks danced, for lie took a pride in his skill in performing on that instrument. A dancing party was to come ofT at his house on one ehristmas eve; and on the evening previous, he had been busily engaged in making the necessary preparations, putting his violin in order, practising, ?fc<\ Hut on the ntght he dreamed the party were met at his house, and all were happy and delighted?that the lance was progressing, and that lie was ihc musician, applauded by all for his performances. Unexpectedly he thought in his dream, that a negro man entered the room, and coming up to him, said ho also could play on the viol n, and asked permission to do so. He handed him tho instrumcn, as he thought, and instantly he began to plav. As he proceeded tho sounds became richer and sweeter, and the music surpassed anything he thought lie had ever heard. In surprise lie turned to gaze upon the strange performer?his apearanco was changed?it was no longer that of a common negro?he had grown to a gigantic statue?his eyes gleamed upon him like balls of fire?and he felt that his visitor, who was playing for him, was the devil himself, und no mortal.? Horror struck, he awoke and found himself trembling with the fright the nppari tion nau caused, and the cold sweat rolling down from every part of his body.? It is needless to say that the party of pleasure, anticipated on the next evening, did not take place. Mr. 13. had no more dancing parties at his house. He never played the violin again. We do not say that his dream w as the means of his conversion; nor do we put any implicit confidence in dreams, lint we know, it wa? the circumstance, which led to an outward reformation immediate and entire. And from that day Mr. 13. began to attend on the external means of salvation, w hich he had never done before, in consequence of which he became hopefully converted, and joined the church with several other members of his family. It was after his connection with the church that he related the circumstances which we have just detailed. I believe he is still a resident of Lewis county in Kentucky. The Croup?How to Prevent it. A correspondent of the New York Mirror, a medical practitioner, in an article on this subject, says: 4 The premonitory symptom of croup is a shrill, sonorous cough. The patient is not sick?has 110 fever,as often in a common cold?is lively, perhaps even gayer than usual; his hands are cool, his face not flushed, possibly a shade paler than usual. The solitary symptom may last for a few days, with no material increase or abatement. and w ithout attracting nnv nr.ti suddenly, however, the disease, hitherto latent, hursts forth in ull its fatal fury, and Loo often continues its ravages unchecked Lo the dreadful consummation. The remclies fortius symptom of croup are simple, tnd in most instances perfectly efficient. Tlicy are; a mustard p ultice, or a trip of flannel dipped in oil of turpentine, >r spirits of hartshorn, applied to the hroat, and nauseating doses of Hive's syrip, to bo continue<l as long as the eough cmains. Iiy this timely employment of nild agents, I unhesitatingly assert that a Multitude of lives might he saved every veek that are now lost through uoglijencc and delay." [The experiment of more than 20 years, ins taught us that the above presrripion, provided the Hive syrup be given, m >bstinate cases, in doses sufficient to preluce vomiting, is an efficient and ahnost infailing remedy. In very severe attacks, f the fever and other symptoms are not emoTwl by the emctie, the warm bath, ind calomel promptly used, wH> scarcely >ver fail to relieve the patient?.Star. Ax intkrkhtino HcLtc.?At a recent onference of the chnrche* in Crotoo, .law., the identical Bible need by John togem, the matyr, and carried by him to he ft take, some of the leaves of wfcfch x'&r marks of the flaroea, was brought *> the meeting by a descendant of the nartyr. \ llello, k thi* a conjunction f asked tur >jril, at he showed ut .1 hyphen !